


Always

by Blakpaw



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Bane and Talia being a soft and cute father daughter unit, Bane is super proud of her, Bane's mask, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this because I was boared, It's honestly just cuteness, Or friend unit, Talia is nine and yet wise as fuck, Worry, both are good, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blakpaw/pseuds/Blakpaw
Summary: In which Talia comforts Bane about his mask.





	Always

“You will always be my friend.” Her young, gentle voice whispered and twisted into his ears, slightly muffled between the bandages and the lack of a now required hearing aid. Her tiny hand reaches up to rest on his cheek, the touch is gentle and so so very soft, but even such a small touch burns his skin, the stimulus overwhelming to his senses. He forces his eyes to stay open as he stares at the girl of barley nine years. Nine years and she has been through so much.

Would she really feel safe around him as he is soon to be? As he will be for the rest of his meager life? They had shown him his mask, had shown him the drug they intended to feed him constantly through his air. Would she truly trust him when his brain is filled with drug? Perhaps it does not addle his thoughts, but it has proven to make him less aware of physicality, he had nearly broken the doctor’s hand when merely trying to shake it as the drug pumped into his system through his veins.

“Bane.” Talia calls to him, dragging his pain hazed and seemingly ever wandering mind to her. She is not one for many expressions, but he knows her well, her eyes hold her curiosity and concern, and most importantly her fierce and loving honesty. The tiny girl shifts, her knees press into his thighs as she kneels on his lap, so she may look at his face, and it hurts, but it is a pain he is willing to endure to be near her. She tilts her head back, looking down her nose at him, and she removes her hand from his cheek.

“Who are you?” She asks him seriously, and it is both a question and yet not a question at all. He does not hesitate to answer her, “Bane.” he tells her. She nods, and says “And what does that mean?” she tilts her head to the side this time, and action she had picked up from him in her young, impressionable days. He copies the tilt of her head, “It means I am the devil of the pit and the protector to the child of the pit.” he answered. Talia nods again, and her serious, closed off little body goes loose as she moves to lean on his chest. His broken ribs ache, but he says nothing of it, as she whispers “And to be Bane what must you be?” she asked, cheek pressed to his sternum and eyes facing the wall to his left. Bane reaches his, shaky, left hand up and runs his fingers over her slowly growing hair, “It means I must be strong, confident, and persistent.” he tells her gently.

She nods “You have not forgotten who you are. And neither have I.” she tilted her head to look up at him, and he moved to look down, it pulled at the wound on his neck and his back, and it forced him to squeeze his eyes and bare through the pain, but eventually he was able to meet her eyes. She reaches up with her gentle, tiny, yet calloused hand to swipe a tear away with a tiny thumb, an action he found she also acquired from himself.

“I care not what your face or your body looks like. You will always be my Bane. My protector. My friend.” she tells him, leaning on his body again. He moves his left arm to wrap around her, holding her close even though it hurt.

“What if the drug prevents my protection? I forget my strength on it. What if I harm you?” Bane asks her gently. Talia tuts at him, “Silly thing. You will learn. You always do.” she reminds him. He nods a bit.

Only nine, yet speaking words as wise as men thrice her age. He does not know were she gained such wisdom, he thinks perhaps she was born with it. He is ever proud of her for it. He hopes her father is proud of her as well. She has survived more than many hardened criminals have.

They sit in silence, they need not speak to know what the other feels. Talia is calm, and patient, and it is Bane who is the more nervous of the two of them. It is a strange circumstance, but one they both are willing to deal with together.

They come to collect him, preparing him to wear this… cage like mask. It feels as if he is trading one prison for another, always to be confined by something. Before, confined by walls and hungry men. Now, to be confined by metal, leather, and drug.

They allow Talia to unwrap his damaged and sore face, removing the thick bandages, their eyes never breaking contact as they silently give each other the strength they will need to move forward from here. The bandages fall from him without pause in her actions, confidence and determination on her face, with in but a minute or two the bandages from his face lay on the floor, the rest of his body still swaddled and confined heavily in bandages.

It takes three men to secure the mask onto his head, one placing the straps and closing them, another working on the tubes to be sure they are straight and secure, and a third affixing the numbing drug filled canisters into the mask. Once it is secured tightly the pain begins to fade in moments. He takes a few deep breaths to become used to it, to quicken the dulling, before he settles it into a calm rhythm. His breath hisses in and out of the material, his damaged lungs and rib cage causing a slight rattle to it on occasion.

He turns to look at Talia, and for a moment he fears disgust or horror will be on her face over his weakness, on his dependency on this twisted ugly mask. But she looks rather indifferent as she reaches for him, asking silently that he crouch for her. He does, the pain still flairs in his back, but he can manage it now, the burning inferno of pain dulling to a flame. She reaches one hand to touch his cheek, and leans in to press her tiny plump lips to his cheek, just below his right eye. He closes his eyes as he takes comfort in this action. He reaches up with his own hand to cup her cheek, stroking with his thumb in a similar place on her tiny face. He tells her he wishes he could return the gesture. She tells him he already has. Yet no words pass between them.

“You will always be my friend.” her eyes tell him.

His eyes crinkle and fold as he smiles under his mask. “And you will always be mine.” his say back.


End file.
